


Revontulet

by livia_1291



Series: You’ll Never Walk Alone [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (that never happens so take note), Angst?, Aurora Borealis, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Magnus wins a bet, Nordic 5 - Freeform, Series, Sindre loses a bet, SuFin, aph denmark - Freeform, aph finland, aph norway - Freeform, aph sweden, bed sharing, finsu, i guess?, leaky boat, on the road to iceland, post apocalyptic, subtle dennor, they’re fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 22:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livia_1291/pseuds/livia_1291
Summary: Alexander finds some answers on the journey to Iceland.





	Revontulet

A persistent stream of cold water dripping onto Alexander’s cheek jolted him from uneasy sleep. Groggily, he brushed his fingertips over his soaking skin, frowning in sleepy confusion. There was no way he had drooled that much - he’d only been out for an hour or so, if he could trust the old clock they had haphazardly lashed above the door to the sleeping quarters with some spare duct tape.

_Drip drip._

Definitely not drool. This time, he swiped the moisture off his cheek and brought his fingers to his lips, tentatively licking the water off and wrinkling his nose at the sharp, salty taste. _Leak,_ he thought, pressing his lips together into a thin line of annoyance, _and just my luck, it’s right above my bed._

Luckily, the rate of a few drops per minute would not sink them. It wasn’t even enough to wake the rest of the crew to fix it - no, it was just enough to be annoying, and to keep Alexander wide awake.

There was no point in laying in bed and letting the ocean torture him all night - if this was what the gods had in store for him, so be it, but he _certainly_ did not have to lay there and take it. _Might as well make the best of a bad situation._ Silently, as not to wake the four other members of his crew, he crept out of the cabin and onto the deck, where he settled down at the bow.

    The sky above him was alive with ribbons of green and violet and white. No matter how many times he saw the aurora, it always filled him with mind-halting awe. He was reminded of the myths of souls, where the dead and the unborn skipped across the darkness of space in the form of shimmering waves of light. It was vaguely comforting, he thought, to imagine that someone was up there watching over him.

    “They’re nice tonight, aren’t they?”

    Alexander almost launched himself off the deck in alarm, jumping to his feet and whipping around to face whatever beast or spirit that had ambushed, only to be greeted by a serene, but skeptical Väinö.

    “Didn’t mean to scare you. Why are you awake?” The Finn inquired, a faint smile quirking his lips up at Alexander’s reaction to his presence.

    “Couldn’t sleep. There’s a little leak above my bed,” Alexander mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and sitting back down on the wooden deck. He could still feel his heart thrumming like a hummingbird in his throat. “Nothing serious, didn’t want to bother anyone. Thought I might enjoy the night, at least. Did I wake you up?” As a sort of afterthought, he patted the spot beside him in an offering. Väinö accepted it without much hesitation, settling beside the Swede and tucking his legs beneath him with a drowsy, dismissive shrug.

    “Yes, but I’m a light sleeper, so don’t worry. If I had wanted to, I would have gone back to sleep, but I like watching the... _revontulet_.” Pale brows furrowed in frustration, and a frown creased Väinö’s otherwise relaxed expression. “What’s the word for the lights?”

    “Aurora?” Alexander supplied, and Väinö nodded slowly, leaning back on his hands and turning his gaze skyward.

    “Aurora,” he repeated carefully, savoring the way the word played off of his tongue. “We call them _revontulet_ ; fox’s fire, because we believe that they are created by the firefox running so quickly over snow that he throws off sparks into the sky...it’s a nice story, I think, but I often wonder what he is running from.”

    “Maybe he’s just running for the joy of it,” Alexander murmured, turning to look at his companion, and suddenly, the vivid aurora seemed dull.

Väinö was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but he was beautiful in the way that a finely-crafted knife is: sharp, fine, dangerous. One false move, and you’d find yourself bleeding out before you even registered that you’d been cut. Alexander wondered vaguely if he had been doomed from the first time Väinö fixed him with that piercing gaze.

“I don’t know. It’s just a story, anyway, who can tell what the Aurora really is?” Väinö shrugged, eyes closing for a moment longer than a blink, before popping open again. They were full of the night sky, marbled emerald and amethyst and fathomless, deep black. Alexander forced himself to look away before he drowned in them. “Not knowing is a nice thing sometimes.”

“You think?” The Swede asked, arching a brow and resting his palms flat over his knees as he tilted his head up towards the heavens, drinking in salty, starry night air. “I don’t much like it. I prefer when I know what I am doing and what is going on around me. No surprises.”

Väinö’s laugh was luminous even in the dark heart of the night. “Ah, but when we do not know, we can imagine that the firefox is running for joy _and_ running for fear. Not knowing allows us to explore so many possibilities. That is what keeps me from going crazy, I think.”

Alexander wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not, so he chuckled in turn, moving to kick his legs out in front of him and lean back on his hands like Väinö. There was a moment where they were both silent, and even the darkness seemed to hold its breath.

    “Are you...afraid? Of what we’ll find in Iceland, I mean,” Alexander blurted out, and as soon as the words had left his lips, he wanted to kick himself. What kind of question was that?

    His companion, however, seemed unfazed by the question, tilting his head in thought.

“I...don’t know,” Väinö admitted slowly, “because I don’t know what we will find there. Should I be afraid?”

    Alexander could only shrug. “I don’t know either.”

    To his surprise, Väinö smiled, and it was not blade-sharp and glinting like it was when he was facing down some grand beast of Hel. It was soft, glowing warm like the midsummer bonfires Alexander was sure he would miss back home. Carefully, the Finn draped his hand over Alexander’s, so softly he was sure it could have been accidental, but then Väinö was skimming his thumb over his knuckles, and Alexander forgot how to breathe.

    “Then I suppose we can imagine whatever we want for now,” Väinö whispered. “I want to imagine that the rift is already closed, and there will be no difficulty or danger awaiting us. It will be peace and new beginnings, and we will begin to rebuild.”

    A beat of silence, and Alexander slowly intertwined their fingers, looking down to meet Väinö’s impossibly dark eyes.

    “I think we both know that we aren’t out of the woods yet,” he breathed, and Väinö exhaled heavily and slumped forward, into Alexander’s sturdy chest. Without thinking, the Swede wrapped his free arm around his shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

    “I know,” Väinö whispered hoarsely, “so let me imagine.”

    Alexander wasn’t sure how long they sat there, wrapped up in each other and listening to the sounds of soft breaths, and of the waves lapping at the sides of the dinky little boat. It could have been hours, it could have been mere minutes. He was beginning to think that Väinö had fallen back asleep when the man stirred, blinking blearily up at him from under long lashes.

    “You can share my bed,” he offered quietly, and Alexander wondered if the whole world was spinning, or if it was just him.

    “Thanks,” he mumbled, “wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the floor.”

    When their crewmates found them in the morning, crammed together in Väinö’s bunk, Sindre had rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket, passing a triumphant Magnus a 100 kroner note.

“I thought they’d at least make it to Iceland,” the Norwegian sighed, and set about fixing the steadily dripping leak.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Revontulet - Finnish. lt., “fox’s fires” - the Aurora borealis. 
> 
> “But Liv,” my friends howl, “you haven’t finished your immigration paperwork!”
> 
> Oops! I meant to have that all done before allowing myself to write some more, but this was stuck in my head and needed to get out, so here’s the next installation in the series. I’ll probably start I’ll Follow You Into The Dark soon, but there will be a hiatus partway through while I visit Europe. I am also planning on writing some stuff for the wonderful comic Stand Still, Stay Silent by Minna Sundberg. Give it a read if you have the time.
> 
> Enjoy this little piece while you wait!
> 
> xx.
> 
> Liv


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